The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 41: Hatred is as Deep as the Sea]

In a cemetery in Los Angeles, near the University of California, a made-up Hawke stood by the railing, gazing at the gloomy gravestones. If he had jumped off in Provo, he probably wouldn't even have a gravestone.

His thoughts drifted towards being in a heap of trouble, maybe even dismembered into pieces.

Suddenly, a chubby figure appeared.

Hawke waved towards him.

Cole approached reluctantly, saying, "I did everything you asked. Now give me my things back."

Hawke reminded him, "We agreed on ten days. It's been less than half that time."

Cole's tone was heavy. "Deborah wants to divorce Downey. Did you bring this on?"

"It wasn't me," Hawke replied, staring off toward the University of California. "It was our doing together."

Cole recalled that he had been the one to give her location info and looked like he might burst into tears. "You said you'd only shoot news..."

Hawke replied, "How can I shoot news without something happening? Don't I need to create a bit of buzz?"

He patted Cole on the shoulder. "Don't worry; this bit of news is nothing. There are much bigger things to come."

Cole was on the verge of tears. "That's not what you said before. I want out. I want to withdraw."

"Are you sure?" Hawke worried that this guy didn't grasp the situation and added straightforwardly, "What do you think will happen if Downey finds out about everything you've done? Downey might let you off easy since he values your friendship, but Deborah? Does she even like you? Is she going to report you to the cops and send you to jail? From what I know, with your financial situation, losing Downey's support means you can't even afford a lawyer."

Most of these guys relied on stars for a living; they had no real ability to make money.

Cole was also anxious. "You've gone too far. I won't be able to get by either."

"Money means a good life," Hawke said, tempting Cole with the allure of others' possessions. "What if you suddenly got a big load of cash? What does Downey give you? With your setup, you think selling something every few months is going to make you rich? Downey's collection has only that little?"

Cole, the gambler, fell silent instantly.

Hawke didn't rush to speak, allowing Cole to think it over himself.

After a long while, Cole finally said, "Taking too much will get noticed."

Noticing wasn't the key; the key was his mindset. Hawke, speaking softly, said, "Deborah has already moved out of Brentwood. If Downey can't keep track of these things, who is most familiar with the layout of his home?"

"Me!" Cole replied instantly.

Hawke stated, "Think about it. Is there any better chance for you to make a fortune? When you leave Los Angeles, who can track you? Just three hours south, you could be in Tijuana, no checks at the border."

Cole's hands began to shake.

The human heart is the hardest to read, especially when gambling and drugs are involved; a line is practically nonexistent. If pushed a little further, rationality can evaporate.

The two continued talking for a long time.

Hawke repeated the same points over and over.

...

As dusk fell, Cole left first. Hawke drove his Chevrolet to Santa Monica.

Switching back to his usual attire, he returned to the West Coast media studio.

Edward brought dinner back.

As they ate, they chatted.

Edward gnawed on some barbecue while saying, "Jacqueline got the money; she ain't gonna spill."

He pointed to a heap of baby gear. "What's going to happen with all this stuff?"

Hawke replied, "Just take it; you might need it later."

Edward shook his head. "How would I use it? This is stuff for women! Boss, you're not making me dress up as a woman, are you? Look at me, dark hair, dark face, dark skin -- I wouldn't pass for a woman."

Hawke ignored his nonsense. "Drink less tonight and rest up. If everything goes according to plan, tomorrow's going to be big news."

Edward remained confused, probing, "Boss, what kind of big news?"

Hawke loosely said, "Might send someone to jail for a few years."

Edward perked up, "Jail? That's good! People like Downey, if they ended up in a regular prison, would be well-fed every day."

Hawke remembered a connection from his previous life; once someone was in prison, he could cook something up: squid cooked with black pepper!

Although he wanted Downey to dive off the deep end and flounder like a live squid, Hawke wasn't rigid -- there were multiple ways to prepare a single ingredient.

After dinner, Hawke pondered for a long time. Even with the tightest of plans, things could go sideways. Sometimes, one just needed to adapt.

Edward asked, "Boss, what do I do tomorrow?"

Hawke instructed, "Find a public phone far from any surveillance and wait for my signal."

...

Brentwood, inside Downey's lavish home.

Robert Downey Jr. didn't need anyone to persuade him, downing drink after drink during dinner until he was completely smashed.

Deborah had moved out, leaving just the two of them in the house.

Cole supported Downey, tossing him onto the bed. Once he passed out, Cole locked the bedroom door, first turning off the home security system completely before rummaging through another room.

As one of Downey's closest buddies, Cole knew him far better than Deborah did.

Cole dug out Downey's stash and flushed it down the toilet, leaving only a small bag behind.

After that, he headed to Downey's collection room.

It held an Academy Award trophy, plus several smaller accolades.

But Cole wasn't interested in those; his eyes fell on several glass cases.

Robert Downey Jr. loved collecting luxury watches, and those cases contained priceless Swiss timepieces.

Cole's eyes reddened; these were worth hundreds of thousands.

He approached, standing before the glass case, his crumbling resolve collapsing entirely.

"They're mine! All mine!" Cole's greed drove him to a decision. He rushed to another room, opened the gun cabinet, and took out one of Downey's firearms, choosing a lightweight Glock 26.

Of course, he wasn't foolish enough to do it himself.

Cole sat down in a chair, his not-so-bright mind racing with thoughts, convincing himself that having a gun could be advantageous.

The next morning, Robert Downey Jr. awakened from his drunken stupor to notifications from his lawyer.

Deborah's attorney had officially sent a letter to initiate divorce proceedings and laid out completely outrageous demands for asset division.

"That bitch has lost it!" Downey smashed his phone against the TV screen, causing a clatter. "She wants to take everything from me!"

With a marriage gone sour, hate ran deep.

Downey smashed things around the room; if not for the alcohol clouding his senses and making him weak, his living room would have turned into a trash heap.

Meanwhile, out in the courtyard, Cole dialed a number. "Deborah's lawyer has sent the letter; he's gone off the rails."

"Go ahead," the person on the other end asked, "Remember what I told you yesterday?"

With the promise of money in play, Cole's memory sharpened: "I remember."

He was to take enough to run and escape to Mexico; he had been there before and recalled the way.

Downey shouted, "Cole! Cole! Where's my stuff? Where's my stuff?"

Cole pocketed his phone and rushed over, asking, "Is it all gone?"

Downey, agitated, was flipping through everything: "Everything's gone! Who did this?"

Cole responded, "Deborah; it had to be Deborah..."

"That bitch!" Downey was becoming increasingly agitated. "I'll kill her! I'll kill her!"

Cole dashed out and pulled a plastic bag from his backpack, handing it to Downey. "This is mine; use this first."

Downey got busy.

Cole waited quietly.

After a long time, Downey calmed down and even chuckled, pulling Cole into a tight embrace. "What's a wife compared to a brother in a time of need? You guys are my real support."

But Cole's heart began to shift: a brother? Support? Why could you make so much money and yet refuse to share more with us? Those pennies you give us -- are they just charity for beggars?

A person who finds fault with another only sees his flaws.

Downey smiled and said, "Go help me get some stuff."

Cole pictured the person he'd seen at the cemetery and the words he had said, suggesting, "You'd better gather more. Deborah's looking to divorce you and grab your assets; she's probably going to use this against you. Let's stockpile some before she reacts."

In the current situation, Robert Downey Jr. pretty much had a head stuffed with nonsense.

He chuckled, "Now it's just you by my side. You go and make contact."

Cole went out to make calls and quickly reached someone. "I need a lot of goods on my end. Don't suspect me or refuse just yet; to prove sincerity, Downey will personally go over to you for the deal."

The other end agreed, and he returned to the room, telling Downey, "This time the amount is huge; the LAPD has been fishing lately, and they're requiring you to go in person."

Downey floated in a cloud of delusion, not thinking straight. "Let's go together."

Cole went to the car, keeping in mind the person's advice and deliberately chose the Cadillac registered in Downey's name, taking the gun with him as he left.

*****

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